


Much Astew About Nothing

by MaverikLoki, Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [32]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cooking Lessons, Fluff, M/M, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverikLoki/pseuds/MaverikLoki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: Artemis Hawke cannot cook. It is a fact so absolute it should appear in one of the prophetic books of the Chant of Light. Orana is determined to fix this problem. Fenris has little faith in the solution.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AstaianNymph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstaianNymph/gifts).



"I'll teach you to make my papa's soup," Orana promised, one hand on Artemis's back as she steered him toward the kitchen. "No one could resist papa's soup. It's good, traditional Neromenian food. It's what you eat when you can't sleep."

She'd already taken out the ingredients and spread them along the long worktop across from the fire. It was a soup she only knew how to make to excess, so that was what they would do -- and they'd be eating it for days. Orana wasn't sure how people lived without magic near them to preserve their food, but she'd never lived without mages, and with any luck, she never would.

Artemis eyed the line-up of ingredients with growing trepidation. They were laid out neatly, for which Artie was grateful, but that was quite a few different kinds of food. "Uh."

Orana bit back a smile. "Don't look so nervous, messere. I'm here to help you."

"Which I appreciate. But this... looks quite a bit more complicated than grilled cheese."

Orana patted his arm consolingly. "Soup is quite a bit of putting a bunch of things in a bowl and heating them up. You can do this."

Artemis wasn't convinced, but Orana hadn't lost patience with him yet, against all logic. "Fenris does love your soup..." He tried to picture that, Fenris eating something he had made and smiling. And smiling honestly, not just to spare his feelings.

"Here, look, the pot's already warm. All you have to do is put things in it." Orana winked and smiled, handing Artemis the week's butter. "Put half that in, and then cut up four onions. Big chunks. And mash a few cloves of that garlic from Antiva that he likes. You can do that with magic -- it'll be good practise."

She moved around the kitchen, making sure all the ingredients were actually there, and then set a board and knife on the stone worktop. "You'll be fine. He's going to love it. You remember how to peel an onion, don't you? Ends first and grab the edges."

Artemis nodded. "Yes. That I remember." There was something satisfying in peeling onions, and that, at least, he had no trouble with. "But, uh. When you say 'big chunks'... How big is a big chunk? Because that's not something I can measure, and my idea of big might be different than your idea of big."

"The size isn't too important," Orana assured him, keeping her tone upbeat and patient. Showing any frustration was, she found, a good way to make things worse when it came to Artemis. "Here. I'll show you what I mean." She cut up the first onion in demonstration, and Artemis watched with almost comical seriousness.

"That's... Okay." Artie didn't point out that the pieces weren't even. He knew it wouldn't matter, and yet... 

Painstakingly, Artemis cut the next onion, careful to make the chunks as even as possible. Since 'big chunks' still wasn't something he could measure, he went with the same number of chunks.

"Look! That's perfect!" Orana smiled encouragingly. The other two onions also went fairly quickly, though she could see the discomfort on Artemis's face, when the pieces weren't all the same size. "It's an onion. It's round. You're cutting it square." She patted his back gently. "It's supposed to look exactly like that."

Pushing all the chunks toward the centre of the board, she gestured to the pot. "First the butter, then just pour this in. Don't worry about it. Just let it sit, until the garlic is ready."

Artemis followed her instructions, watching her out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was doing this right. Mum would have lost patience with him long before now, and Anton would have started using the onions as projectiles.

He stared down at the garlic, hands braced on either side of the worktop. Crushing them he could do. Crushing them without crushing half the kitchen was the problem. But Orana still stood there, waiting patiently and smiling and putting a questionable amount of faith in him. She beamed when all he ended up crushing was the garlic.

* * *

Fenris smelled the soup long before he got to the kitchen door. The scent of it permeated the entire house, swelling out into the street, as he came in. That was a scent he knew -- Orana made it for him, when he wasn't sleeping well. For a moment, he found himself wondering why she was making it now, but it was good enough that he'd eat it any time without complaint. Good Tevinter food -- just the kind of thing that would make Theron gag, and that put a smile on his face, as he leaned around the kitchen door.

Only to find Artemis stirring the pot.

"You're doing fine," Orana assured Artemis, patting his arm as he mixed in a little more salt. "Do you smell that? Doesn't it smell wonderful? You made that."

Fenris's eyes widened, ears jutting at odd angles, until he got his face under control. Artemis? Cooking? The man could make an excellent sandwich -- something he no doubt picked up from his brother -- but, a soup? Whatever it smelled like, he still had some concerns.

Fenris waited until he was certain his fear didn't show on his face before he let them know he was there. "Something smells delicious," he said, walking into the kitchen. That, at least, was true.

Artie threw him a sheepish smile, still stirring. "And it actually looks like a soup, thanks to Orana's guidance. She believes it will be edible, even."

"That is excellent news, Amatus," Fenris said, approaching Artemis for a kiss. It was sweet for Artemis to try, at least, and sweeter still of Orana to help him.

"Would you like to taste test it for us, Messere Fenris?" Orana asked.

"I..." Fenris hesitated, taking a deep breath. The room still smelled strongly of the soup, and his stomach complained loudly at having been fed nothing but a fistful of trail biscuits since he started home from the coast. He glanced down at himself. "It seems I will."

Orana dipped a cup into the soup, while Artemis was busy watching Fenris, and offered it, dripping slightly. She could only hope the angle of her arm made that less apparent.

Accepting the cup, Fenris allowed himself a look of concern, but Orana nodded subtly, indicating she wouldn't be offering if she thought something were wrong with it. With a bit more tension than usually accompanied the drinking of soup, Fenris sipped at the broth. He looked surprised and his stomach made clear its intent that he should finish the cup.

"Mff gmm!" Fenris nodded enthusiastically, chewing a mouthful of beans, noodles, and carrot.

Artemis eyed him hopefully, watching him devour what Orana had given him. That was more than politeness. That was Fenris taking genuine pleasure in something Artemis had made, and Artie sagged in relief.

"It's good? You're sure?"

Fenris hummed an affirmative, tipping his head back to get every last drop out of the cup. 

Artemis beamed and pulled Orana to him in a one-armed hug. "Thank you for existing," he said.

"You're most welcome, messere," Orana answered, eyes glittering with amusement. "Let me go set the table. Watch the soup and make sure Messere Fenris doesn't eat it all before it hits the table."

"Why should I not eat it here?" Fenris asked, wrapping an arm around Artemis as he dipped the cup in his other hand back into the pot. "I think I should eat it until I am warm to touch and then carry my husband off to bed for a show of my appreciation." He sipped at the soup, between sentences. "Putting this on the table will only make that take more time."

Artemis purred, leaning into his husband. "I supply dinner, and you supply dessert? That seems like a fair trade. Orana, maybe fetch us some wine instead?"

They never made it to the dining room, and Orana smiled to herself as she put away the leftovers, certain Artemis would be more eager for lessons in the future, though perhaps not quite as eager as he sounded, now, through the kitchen door.


End file.
